


Physical Transactions

by deluxekyluxtrashcan (rhoen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: And Kylo has many, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Repressed, Hux is useless at feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/deluxekyluxtrashcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux just cares about the physical release he can find with Kylo, nothing else. Admittedly, the improved working relationship is a bonus, but Kylo's attempts to actually hug him are something Hux can't - and won't - deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physical Transactions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pkabyssinian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/gifts).



> I really, really hope this is okay. It's perhaps not as close to the prompt as it should be, but I hope you like it. Just remember: Hux is useless at intimacy. Really useless.
> 
> Un-beta'd.
> 
> > **Do not translate or repost this fic without my permission.**. Ask if you'd like to translate it. Linking to it with a short snipped it okay though!

It’s not something they do. Hux pushes Kylo’s hand away, refusing the contact which extends beyond what they do, threatening to blur the lines. Hux has no time, nor any interest, in lingering touches or sentiment. That’s not what this is.

He does his utmost to ignore the clearly disappointed expression the other man is wearing - something startling in its honesty - as Kylo’s hand hangs limply over the side of the bed where he’s let it fall in resignation.

Hux dresses and leaves. There’s nothing more he can gain from Kylo’s presence.

-

The arrangement is new between them, borne of a strange conflict that traverses the line between hatred and desire. It feels delicate, as if too much pressure in the wrong place will shatter it, and sometimes the desire is conflicting to Hux: it’s as much the burning need to best Kylo as it is to bed him. Played well, the latter is infinitely more preferable to being left riled and frustrated, but they suffer as many missteps as they do successes, and the wrong word in the wrong place often leaves one of them storming off, unable to bear the other’s presence any longer. Kylo’s subsequent tantrums are exhausting to endure, but thankfully he increasingly settles for simply stalking the corridors and terrifying the troops, or retiring to the officers’ training gym, rather than indiscriminately destroying equipment. Hux is grateful for the change.

Hux himself retreats to his work when Kylo says or does something too infuriating for Hux to forgive, immersing himself in figures and reports, becoming unreachable to those not directly involved with the issue currently at hand. He ignores Kylo until his own irritation has abated, or until he remembers that he is better than the other man, and not ruled by petty emotions. He shoves the disagreement forcefully from his mind, and makes himself act as if nothing has happened. He’s sure his ability to switch off and calmly approach Kylo as if nothing has happened infuriates the other man, but he doesn’t care. Kylo’s reactions are not his responsibility, nor his concern.

-

It feels childish, the way Kylo tries to cling to him. Whenever they’re close enough in private, it’s clear that the Knight wants to wrap around Hux, pressing against him in every way he can. Hux doesn’t particularly mind when that desire is driven by the need for sexual gratification, but once they’re spent and Kylo still insists on trying to somehow move closer to him, it makes Hux uncomfortable. Kylo is clearly feeling something Hux isn’t, and Hux knows it’s something he will never understand, or feel.

He doesn’t want to.

-

Their working relationship has, thankfully, improved. It’s not what Hux would call perfect, but there’s a familiarity to the taunts and biting remarks they exchange which make it feel more like teasing than attacking. Playfulness and malevolence seem remarkably similar in Kylo, but Hux is learning to tell the difference. Now, Kylo hardly ever attacks him with genuine malice - he needs to have had a thoroughly bad day for that to happen - and when he approaches Hux with a scathing remark, it seems to serve as more of a reminder to Hux that the other man still exists rather than anything else.

Hux is very aware of the fact that the other man exists. Kylo found his way onto his ship, into his chain of command, and into his bed. Hux can’t help but be aware of him.

-

Sex should, in Hux’s opinion, be approached as a transaction. There is something two people want, and can achieve, through physical interaction with each other. It shouldn’t matter to him how they get what they both want, but when Kylo’s arms wrap around him and the other man presses his face into Hux’s neck, kissing flushed skin, Hux has to wrap his hands around Kylo’s wrists, prising them away and pinning the other man’s arms above his head, stopping the poorly concealed attempt to hold Hux in a way that isn’t appropriate. Hux keeps his body as distant from Kylo’s as possible, ignoring the pathetic keening his denial causes. Kylo shouldn’t complain. They fuck, and it feels good: that’s all he should care about. Hux tries to remind him, distracting Kylo with the way he moves, but Kylo keeps trying to arch up, pressing closer to Hux.

When they’ve both cum, Hux quickly disentangles himself, almost falling from the bed in his haste to reclaim his clothes and leave.

“Hux?”

Kylo’s voice is soft; sad.

Hux doesn’t acknowledge the plea.

-

Kylo tries to touch him once, outside of their arrangement. They’re standing together in the debriefing room as the rest of the officers called to the meeting file out, and Hux checks the file Mitaka has sent to his datapad. Kylo lingers, hovering close to Hux. Nothing about it is particularly unusual, and Hux doesn’t even register Kylo’s proximity, until a hand brushes deliberately against his own, causing him to almost drop the datapad. No one else is in the room, but that is Hux’s first concern when his attention is abruptly drawn away from the task at hand. His second priority is to put distance between them, moving purposefully away from Kylo.

He doesn’t need to say anything to make the message inescapably clear: Kylo’s touch is not welcome outside of the bedroom, even if they’re apparently alone.

He also doesn’t need to hear Kylo say it to know that the other man is sorry, and that if he weren’t wearing the mask his voice would be small and hurt.

Hux spends the rest of the day incensed at Kylo’s inferior desperation for intimacy.

-

The point in which Hux realises he should stop their arrangement comes, and then goes. There’s a familiarity between them that has taken time to build, and Hux quite simply cannot be bothered investing the time or effort in anyone else to attain the same thing - even if that someone else would be far less likely to try and cling to him the way Kylo does.

They know each other. Hux can bring Kylo off almost effortlessly, and have the other man gasping and trembling with pleasure beneath his touch with startling ease. In turn, Kylo knows what he likes: he knows just where to press his fingers, just how hard to bite, and the exact spot to stimulate to bring Hux to a blinding climax. There’s a rhythm between them, which comes more naturally as time passes.

It’s somewhat ruined, though, by the fact that Hux often has to rearrange Kylo’s limbs and twist away from kisses and caresses that feel far too needy. He can’t focus on Kylo when that happens, because the pathetic desperation makes him uncomfortable, and he wants nothing more than to pull away and hide.

-

Hux isn’t sure he’d believe anyone who told him that Kylo Ren, who had once been the bane of his existence and had provoked, undermined and antagonised him at every turn, would turn into the man currently standing beside him. Where they used to exchange barbed insults and carefully levelled accusations, there is only uncomfortable silence and the occasional reserved comment. The vitriol has been washed away, smothered by something Hux likes even less. It seems like resignation, on Kylo’s part; on his own, it’s an inability to see any point in trying to change the way things are. He has a ship to run, and far more important things to oversee than a withdrawn man who seems to distance himself from Hux more and more.

Kylo used to break things. Kylo used to terrorise troops and harass junior officers. Kylo used to storm about the place, dragging a dark cloud of chaos wherever he went.

Hux thinks he likes the new Kylo, who he hasn’t seen or heard a complaint about in days.

-

Hux is relieved that Kylo still lets him in when Hux goes to his quarters as usual, but there’s something altered in the way Kylo reacts, as if diminished. He’s still hungry for Hux, kissing and tugging at him with need, but the sounds he makes are more reserved, his body seeming less responsive. Hux notices it with annoyance, and increases his efforts to make Kylo feel good, before deciding not to bother with the extra attention. The only goal is for them both to cum, and he achieves that. That’s all he cares about.

And yet, as he pulls away and isn’t restrained by one of Kylo’s pathetic attempts to draw him near again, he’s already falling into a foul mood.

By the time he reaches his own quarters, Hux ignores the hour and throws himself furiously into his work, too agitated to rest.

-

Kylo is not, and never will be, subservient or submissive, but his uncharacteristic quietness and lack of venom is starting to be noticed. When Kylo walks onto the bridge and approaches Hux, handing over a datastick containing information Kylo has been digging out of the Empire’s archives with a flat ‘General’ as his only acknowledgement of Hux, Chief Petty Officer Umano stares in slack-jawed surprise, forgetting herself for a moment. Hux pretends not to notice, because to say anything would be an admission of Kylo’s uncharacteristic behaviour, and he is doing his best to ignore it and simply enjoy the peace and quiet.

-

The first few times, Hux thought Kylo would snap out of it, but after the fifth time he finds Kylo to be a less responsive partner than he once was, Hux is truly wondering if their arrangement is going to last much longer. He doesn’t particularly want it to, really, and it’s clear that Kylo is just going through the motions too, his actions occasionally interspersed with a raw desperation and hopelessness that, quite frankly, has no place in the bedroom. He’s listless and unenthusiastic, for the most part. It’s only when Hux enters his quarters that Kylo kisses him enthusiastically, touching and undressing him with fervor. That spark quickly fades, and Kylo simply lets Hux do whatever he wants with him, cooperating but not contributing. Any occasional flares of desire quickly burn out, Kylo’s hand often not even making it to its intended destination before he lets it drop.

It’s like fucking a sex droid.

Hux always leaves in a bad mood, no longer sated and content as he once was.

-

Kylo is barely responsive beneath him, his chest rising and falling rapidly but his reactions otherwise absent. Hux hates this. The hands on his hips are barely there, not even guiding or encouraging. He wants to roll them over, to make Kylo take the lead and move with some enthusiasm, but he’s too tired of this to bother trying. He hates that he has to work so hard for so little, and wonders why he even bothers.

Kylo cums before Hux, which is probably just as well, because the second he’s done, Hux is gathering himself and moving away, off of Kylo and towards his clothes, cursing himself for even bothering to come tonight. A wank would have been more satisfying, and wouldn’t leave him so deeply irritated at the situation: at himself, at Kylo, and at the damn universe for forcing them together.

He huffs as he reaches down, picking up his underwear, his mood suddenly shifting. He simply holds it loosely in his hand, forgetting what to do next as he stands and stares at the edging around the door he’s soon going to walk through, slightly dazed.

He’s tired, he realises. Tired of so much more than he can name. Each step ahead of him seems too much; too far. He doesn’t know how to face it.

Kylo moves slightly, drawing his attention. Hux doesn’t turn, but he’s aware of the man behind him, shifting, tugging the blankets over his pathetic frame in an attempt to hide from the chill of the room Hux can feel against his own skin.

Kylo is pathetic, Hux thinks.

There’s a soft sound, almost a whimper of discomfort choked back far too late for it not to be heard, and it tugs at Hux, making him do something he never wanted or intended to do: turn and look.

Kylo looks pathetic. He’s huddled beneath the blanket, and has drawn it up around his shoulders so that only his face and his fingers, where he grasps at the material, are visible, his big brown eyes looking up at Hux pitifully.

“Please.”

It’s a simple, stupid word, barely whispered, but something about the raw plea and Kylo’s broken voice pierce though Hux, leaving him rooted to the spot.

He’s unable to turn in the direction he knows he has to go. He’s too tired to manage it. The distance between himself and Kylo is far, far less than the galactic chasm between himself and his quarters, and the briefs have fallen from his hand and he’s moved towards the bed before he can even realise what he’s doing.

Kylo isn’t as slow to catch on, and after a moment of surprise, he is lifting the covers and shifting back, his face suddenly alive with what Hux can’t allow himself to realise is joy. He doesn’t understand why he’s doing this, why he’s sliding into the bed and positioning himself next to Kylo, lying on his back and allowing the blanket to be placed over him half a second before Kylo presses firmly against his side, the length of his body warm against Hux’s as an arm snakes over his chest, holding him as tightly as Kylo dares to. A stupid, happy little smile is being buried against his shoulder, and Hux huffs, unable to understand why he’s allowed this to happen. Why isn’t he shoving Kylo off and getting back up, dressing himself and heading back to his own quarters, where he belongs and needs to be? Why isn’t he vilifying Kylo for the happy sob he hears in the other’s chest, or berating him when Kylo’s leg hooks over Hux’s, the arm around his chest tightening? Why isn’t he moving away from… from this, and the pathetic clinginess it will only insight in the other man?

Hux feels that tiredness wash over him again, something cold and leaching in his chest. It’s hard to bear, pinning him down, and he sighs deeply, struggling with himself. Kylo is far too close, holding him in what Hux knows is an embrace but can’t quite believe is actually happening. The warmth of it is disturbing, transferring from skin to skin, seeping into him, slowly washing through his body.

And then he understands the weariness. It’s an exhaustion he feels at having spent too long trying to cling on: to retain the defence he’s built around himself because he’s too afraid of anything that isn’t the coldness he’s always known. It’s the war to maintain distance, and to keep everyone firmly _out_.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

But Kylo is warm. He feels safe, and he smells good. His presence is steady; promising.

Hux lets go, quite simply because he’s too exhausted to cling onto that defence any longer. It slips from his grasp, washed away by the warmth and affection Kylo is freely giving.

For a moment, Hux desperately wants that shield back. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels lost; awkward. He doesn’t know where to place himself, or how to act, and stiffens in Kylo’s hold. It makes Kylo pull back, concern creasing his brow.

“Hux?”

When it’s clear to both of them that Hux isn’t going to bolt, Kylo gives a ghost of a smile, his hand coming up to gently brush against Hux’s cheek, fingers light and tender. His gaze falls to Hux’s lips, and Hux flushes as he realises that Kylo wants to kiss him. He’s just as startled by the realisation that he actually wants Kylo to, even though they’re not having sex so there’s no reason for it.

The rush of feelings is new to him, and Hux struggles under the weight of them for a moment. It’s not a bad weight, he decides. Unlike the tiredness he felt, it washes over him, simply pushing at him in ways he’s unfamiliar with.

“You can hold me back, you know,” Kylo says gently. He’s smiling, his focus back on Hux’s gaze, and his expression is far from unkind. Hux flushes as he realises how obvious that should have been, and his own limbs are awkward as he tries to arrange them around Kylo, trying to fit against him somehow. They manage, facing each other with legs loosely tangled and arms wrapped around each other’s backs. Kylo’s hand gently strokes Hux’s skin, in a way that hovers between tickling and pleasure. When he copies the action, Kylo's smile widens, a warm breath gusting over Hux’s lips.

Despite himself, Hux smiles. Or, he tries to. Just like everything else about him, it’s awkward and unsure, and he feels such a crushing wave of embarrassment which makes him want to give up on the whole thing and curl up in a ball in his own quarters, forgetting he ever tried.

“Hux,” Kylo breathes, seeming completely unaware of Hux’s unease. Hux is starting to notice how Kylo says his name - softly, and tenderly, in a way that no one has ever said it before - and also that Kylo _likes_ saying his name, as if it makes him feel good.

He jerks his head back a fraction, startled, when he realises that Kylo is leaning in to kiss him.

Heart hammering furiously in his chest, Hux blushes, his humiliation complete.

“I, uh… I, um,” he stutters, wishing for a swift, clean death.

Kylo looks hurt by the rejection, and, oddly, that’s enough to make Hux feel better. He can’t understand why, but Kylo wants this. He wants _him_. It’s enough to make him pause, wondering why he pulled away in the first place.

Because he didn’t expect it.

Not because he didn’t want it.

With that realisation, Hux huffs a little at himself, and then finishes what Kylo started, pressing his lips against the other man’s slightly parted ones, hoping that it won’t feel as weird or awkward as embracing still does. He’s not used to the close proximity of someone he’s not rutting against in an attempt to get off.

It turns out that kissing, somehow, hurts. Something in Hux’s chest shifts, dislodging sharply and aching. He doesn’t understand it, and gasps against Kylo’s lips, before kissing him again, more firmly. It’s not so much pain, he realises, as desire, and as he lazily enjoys the feel of Kylo’s lips against his own, he realises that kissing actually eases the bruising need.

Hux takes a moment to realise just how pathetic he is, now.

When they stop kissing, it somehow hasn’t led to more. Hux’s body has reacted, but he doesn’t feel the need to do anything more. Lying with Kylo is, oddly, enough.

“Do people really sleep like this?” he wonders, his hand tracing a lazy figure of eight over Kylo’s skin.

“I don’t know,” Kylo admits. He gives Hux a warm, open smile when he continues. “Turn over.”

“What for?”

“Just do it, you’ll see.”

Hux does so, a little reluctantly. He faced outwards, his eyes being drawn to the door. It looks cold and distant. He no longer has any desire to walk through it - at least not yet - and presses back against the warmth of Kylo’s body.

As a strong arm wraps around him and Kylo’s knees bend, moulding to the contours of his body, Hux understands why Kylo told him to move into this position. He can’t hold Kylo back, but he can wrap his hands around the arm across his chest, thumb tracing lightly over the skin. He’d never have thought it could be soothing, peaceful, almost, to lie with someone like this, pressing against every inch of their body

Kylo kisses his neck before nuzzling at the spot he’s kissed, arm tightening around Hux.

“I could sleep like this, though.”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“Not yet,” Kylo breathes, kissing Hux’s neck again. “You?” He edges close to a spot that makes Hux weak at the knees, his lips deliberately close. Hux understands the offer, and laughs softly as he comes to the realisation that he doesn’t want to move from this; not immediately, anyway.

“Not yet,” he echoes in answer, smiling as he shifts back, seeking more of the warmth he never knew could feel so good, or that he could even have.

He likes being held.

He likes the warmth of Kylo’s body against his. He likes the strong arms that can wrap around him and hold him close. He likes the innocent kisses littered across his skin that make his chest ache with a distinctly different, new desire. He likes the legs that tangle with his, and the way that Kylo’s foot brushes against his own, connecting them from top to toe.

He likes this.

“Kylo?”

If Kylo notices or cares about the uncertainty in Hux’s voice, he doesn’t let on.

“Yeah?” he asks, kissing the back of Hux’s neck again, in a way that is astoundingly reassuring. It’s that, and the strong, careful way that Kylo holds onto him, which gives Hux the confidence to give voice to his thoughts.

“I like this.”

He feels Kylo soften even more against him, sighing and smiling against Hux’s back while his arm tightens, reaffirming the embrace. Hux can picture the idiotic grin, and feels a rush of fondness for the other man, whose response is softly spoken, yet sounds somehow like a binding statement, tying them together in a way Hux doesn’t understand and might be afraid of if he didn’t feel so content and at peace in that moment.

“Me too.”


End file.
